When you lose it all
by FatCatLovesPie
Summary: what do you do? In Nebulascratch's case, he sent himself into a steady spiral into deactivation. Contains mainly all OCs...a few official characters here and there...but...yeah.


**AN:** Okay, so, yeah. This is another result of boredom. It's this idea that's been stuck in my head for this other fanfic that I'm currently writing on. I just had...I just had to get it out of my head.

**Disclaimer:** Oh, and, eh, der. Obviously I don't own Transformers. But I do own almost all of the characters used here...except for The lambo twins...and Megs...and Screamer...and The Constructicons...and Soundwave...and Shockwave...and...yeah...

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Things were never suppose to turn out this way…this shouldn't have happened…things should have gone so differently.

Everything…everything had been plotted out so carefully. Down to the times that certain mechs would die. Nothing had been left out of the planning or of the equation. Plans and procedures had been meticulously scrutinized. Nothing had gone unchanged to better solve the problem. Every great mind of the Decepticon army had gathered and reviewed the proposal. They had all agreed once everything had been modified. There was no way they could lose. There was no way that they could fall.

So…why had they taken such a bad turn? Where had they messed up? It wasn't with the orders-it must have been the soldiers. Maybe, the Autobots had expected it all. That wasn't completely out of the question. They had their spies just like the Decepticons had theirs.

But it still felt so surreal. Someone had fucked up big time here. Someone snitched; told the Autobots vital information. Someone had fucked up big time. And Primus help them if Nebulascratch ever found them.

Their screw-up had caused the loss of his friend…of his war buddy, his wingmate, pit, what would have been his _bondmate_ had things worked out well. How many times had he sat there, staring into those twin red optics just making quiet little promises and threats. Sweat sounding threats, dangerous promises. Silently whispering things that were only endearing to a true, born and bred Decepticon.

He had made such a promises to dear, stupid little Switchdrift. Allowing for his over-ambitious ways to sink in as he swore that one day he, too, would lead the Decepticons. And Switchdrift would rise with him in power, along with that moronically peaceful Bioclash. Then, when this whole stupid war was truly over; when the Autobots were simply no more, not even rebels, then he would claim that jet's body and Spark all for his own. Every thought the other mech had would be intruded on by him, every little movement he made, the other would know. Nothing would have been kept from either one.

Life would have been great for him. Bondmate in one hand, intelligent, blindly loyal and dedicated child in the other. It would have been great.

But no, someone went and fucked up.

They caused Switchdrift's death. And Nebulascratch had to sit there and watch as that foolish mech lunched himself in front of Nebula to take a good-sized shot from one of the Lamborghini twins. And Nebula could only watch, processor too stunned to do much more.

Things had gone quiet, eerily quiet. Time seemed to slow down around him, and the battle slowly faded from his mind. The explosions around him and screams from his comrades and enemies simply dulled down to a small murmur. All that existed to him was Switchdrift laying in front of him; a single shot having ripped through his chest and dangerously close to his Spark chamber.

Frag, never mind. It had gone through his Spark chamber.

Nebula continued to stare before reality came rushing back. A single animalistic war escaped him as he charged straight for the twin that had killed his pal.

In retrospect, that was probably his first major mistake and his first small step towards insanity.

Silly little Nebulascratch should have known that when you attacked one twin, the other would be sure to beat you down and to a pulp. As was the case for him, now. Having blindly rushed in towards the red one –Sideswipe, he thought-Nebula barely expected the sudden shot to his back from the golden twin.

The Tomcat spun around, letting out that same growl that hardly sounded like a Cybertronian and more like a organic. His ruby optics glowed lightly as he stared down one of the attackers. Or at least, he presumed it was one of them. If it wasn't this narcissistic yellow one in front of him then it was the red one behind him. And, oh slag…the red one.

Realizing his mistake, Nebula spun just in time to catch a face-full of fist.

And things just went downhill from there.

Of course he struggled. Of course he fought back. Of course the jet in training held nothing against the twins that had so infamously taken down their superiors several times before.

It was with a hurt pride that Nebula managed to sneak away when the twins became distracted. Thank Primus that Bioclash decided to drop his typical, "I'm not a fighter, just a scientist" act and finally decided to step up and fight. It saved Nebula for the time.

Scrambling to his feet, and ignoring the burning pain in his wings and back and everywhere else, the proud F-14 stumbled his way to his fallen, F-16 comrade.

The damage was worse than he had imagined; than he had wanted to see.

Switchdrift had taken a pretty heavy blow for him. The shot had gone straight through his chest, nipping just a bit over the edge of his Spark chamber. Dents covered all of his armor, and a shot or three had ripped through his wings. In truth, it amazed Nebulascratch that the other had lasted long enough to help him. No, to save him.

Frag it…this wasn't supposed to happen.

-x-

One hundred years.

That was it. That was the short amount of time that had passed since Switchdrift's deactivation. One hundred years since he last saw Bioclash, Megatron, his mentors…hell, he was even starting to miss those two annoying humans that insisted on following kind Bioclash and Scatterstar around.

Heh, those humans. Annoying little parasites that they were, they had often proved a great deal of help to the four Seekers. Whenever he had relayed information from Megatron to Bioclash, that brat Spite 

was first to analyze it and point all the things that were wrong and that would end up in failure. In turn, Nebula would bring these faults to light to Soundwave and have the communication's officer tell Megatron about them. Nebulascratch wasn't an idiot. He knew what happened when one other than Soundwave or Shockwave tried to tell Megatron that his schemes were flawed. He had seen Starscream in the med bay on more than one occasion because he and Megatron had had different opinions about something.

And Izzy had almost been a gift from Primus himself.

When the previously neutral Scatterstar showed up in their ranks and began to slide his way into the Trine's social lives, the girl had also.

She had saved their afts countless times.

The girl was, oddly enough, a mechanic of sorts. The jetpack that rested on her back had been custom made, only serving to prove her technological knowledge. So, when the four needed a good repair and didn't want to deal with Hook or the rest of the Constructicons, they would go to her. Minor repairs, even some major ones, would all be tackled by her.

Heh, Scatterstar. That little fruit cake had brought them many laughs. His unique capability to manipulate personalities and voices perfectly had introduced several crudely hilarious imitations of their superiors. It had even made solemn Switchdrift crack a grin every now and then. Bioclash had spent many, many days laughing about them.

Bioclash...

He wondered where his friend was now.

The last he had heard of the other had been a less than pleasant report. After Switchdrift was gone, the Trine fell apart. Bioclash disappeared, Scatterstar had found himself suddenly quiet and modest, and Nebulascratch was just fading away.

The only reason that he knew that condition Bioclash was in, was because he had simply over-heard a conversation between Soundwave and Megatron.

His wingmate had let himself go, according to the tapedeck. The Autobot replacement optic had been rejected by Decepticon programming, so he was running around with one optic. An arm had been ripped off in the fight by one of the lambo twins, so there was another appendage gone. And apparently, his wings were falling apart as well.

It wasn't long before Nebula followed suit. He simply stopped showing up for duties, for his share of Energon. No one noticed except for his mentors. Who brought it to _their_ superiors' attentions. Deciding that it'd be best to get rid of a hassle, but not of a good soldier, Megatron had the young jet committed straight to the asylum on Cybertron.

That was where he was now.

A hundred years later and he was still being haunted by ghosts of so many broken promises.


End file.
